A Handful of Berries
by passionately-curious
Summary: When Congressman Peeta Mellark is passed over for the promotion he was promised, he and his wife, Katniss, take matters into their own hands. Loosely based on Netflix's House of Cards. Written for Pip Round 5 Day 2: Marigold "Cruelty"


"Are you ready for tonight, my boy?"

Peeta took a sip of his father's brandy. "It's been a long time coming."

"And at the perfect time, as well, you getting a promotion the same year I retire. Though I will say, I never imagined we'd get a Mellark in the White House." Thatcher says, his eyes misting at the thought.

**My father was always the more emotional parent, so his response is no surprise to me. Uncomfortable, perhaps, but that's only because my ice-queen of a mother beat such emotions out of my brothers and I at such an early age. My father claimed he tried to reverse her "lessons" but I can't recall a single time when he did more than place ice packs over our bruises and laugh to the media about how "boys will be boys"**

Peeta smirked "I do wish you were still going to be around, though I will say it'll be nice to not have to answer to dear ol' dad all the time."

Thatcher scoffed. "Please, Peeta. Secretary of State only answers to the President. It'd be me answering to you. I'm proud of you."

"You're the only one." Peeta's voice was dripping with malice, his eyes locked on the photo of his mother and father on Thatcher's desk.

**My mother, the frigid bitch, most likely won't show up to the appointment ceremony. For someone so caught up in appearances, she always had some "personal engagement" the prevented her from showing support for any of her children. It wouldn't matter. My father is the one anyone cares about, which is likely why my mother hates him so. She assumed marrying an up and coming politician would make her the next Jackie Kennedy. But like so many other political wives, she was pushed to the back, forced to raise the children and was trotted out like a show dog around election time. And what a great politician's wife she has become – the other wives twitter about her constantly, praising her marriage and her motherhood – all the while she despised everything about what she had become. Don't get me wrong, Edith has benefited greatly from standing behind Thatcher Mellark during his career, but it's not exactly the life she was expecting. I suppose if I didn't hate her so much, I'd pity her. But pity is such a disgusting emotion to feel.**

"Now, son, you know-"

Peeta drained what little was left of the brandy and set the tumbler down with enough force to stop his father's constant defending of his mother. "All I know," Peeta said, standing up and pulling his jacket back on, "is that I have a wife at home waiting patiently for a New Year's Eve party in honor of the President-elect. Don't suppose we'll see you and Mother there?"

"Not this year. Some boys from the Senate are having a little get-together of their own. But perhaps you and Katniss could join us after the new year sometime, we could together with your brothers."

Peeta gave his father a curt nod. He had absolutely no intention of spending time with any of his family, he was sure his father knew this. "Happy New Year, Dad."

"Happy New Year, Peet. This one may be best one yet for you."

The snow was still falling in the Capitol when Peeta's car arrived to take him back to his home, as it had been doing since the middle of November. He relished in the crunching sound under his shoes and watched his breath as it vaporized into the December air. Finnick Odair held the backseat door open and slid in behind Peeta.

"How'd the meeting go?"

"Nothing new," Peeta answered, leaning back against the seat. "He wants us to go visit sometime."

"Hasn't changed his mind on retiring, then?" Finnick asked.

"Nope. He just doesn't see the bigger picture, Finn. He doesn't understand why staying on as a Senator would do me good. He's under the impression that he's been hampering my rise."

"When in reality…" Finnick didn't need to finish the sentence. Both men knew that Thatcher Mellark had been Peeta's foot in the door on the Hill. It forced Peeta to work harder than any other Congressman which caused his stock in the government to rise rapidly. He always had an unofficial member of the Senate to talk about bills and legislature with, thereby allowing him to better predict how the two may work together.

"We'll see. Perhaps after the announcement he'll change his mind. See things differently." The town car pulled up to Peeta's brick stone home and his bodyguard opened the door for him. "Happy New Year, Finnick. Same to Annie."

Peeta accepted the cane his driver offered him as he made it up the icy steps to his home.

**An old injury that flairs up in the cold weather. Though I'd be damned if I ever was seen in public with the cane. No one wants to elect a representative with the appearance of being weak and inches from death. There was a reason Roosevelt was rarely seen with his wheelchair. Fitness. Virility. That is what people look for in a leader. And any good politician knows that appearances are more important than reality.**

**But my wife would have an absolute fit if my knee was to give out and I fell down the steps tonight.**

"Katniss?" He called, hanging his jacket on the coat rack next to the door and slipping his shoes off. This was more for his benefit than his wife's, who he was fairly certain was the one responsible for the housekeepers working overtime to get the floors cleaned.

"In the bedroom," she called back.

**Our house in the Capitol was a gift from my parents when I was first elected. The one we initially chose was apparently unsuitable for a young Congressman but we refused to live in the same part of town as them. My mother conceded when Victor's Village had a home become available. The house itself was still far more than Katniss and I ever needed, but it served its purpose: we had a roof over our head, walls to protect us, and a certain appearance. Prestigious but humble.**

**We have a house back in Katniss' home district, which became mine as well when we married, that is much more our style. But that would never do in the Capitol.**

He arrived at the bedroom just as Katniss was pinning her hair up in the intricate braid she saved for special occasions. "Did Cinna make that dress for you?" He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder.

She smiled into the mirror at him. "He did. Shall I tell him you approve?"

Peeta kissed her exposed olive-skinned shoulder. "You would look beautiful in a potato sack."

"But hardly appropriate," she shot back. "Help me with my necklace?" She held up a silver chain with a single black pearl on the end in a silver claw; the one he bought her when he was first elected. Katniss turned around in his arms and clasped her hands behind his neck. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. Better once all of this is over and we can start planning the next part of our lives, Mrs. Secretary of State."

She leaned in and kissed him. "You've earned it, Mr. Secretary of State. Though I will admit, it'll be nice to have some additional foreign policy pull for Mockingjay."

"That's why I mentioned my name to Snow in the first place," he reminded her. "I'd do anything for you."

"You're too good to me, Peeta Mellark." She walked over to the closet to retrieve his tuxedo jacket. He exchanged his deep blue tie for a simple black bow and accepted her help in slipping into the jacket. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

He smirked. "You see me for who I really am. Ready?"

* * *

The New Year's Eve party was in full swing by the time Katniss and Peeta made their entrance. The grand ballroom was decorated to excess with silver and white roses everywhere. The walls were lined with television screens showcasing celebrations from around the world.

**I deplore these circle jerk get-togethers the Exusia Party insist on hosting. It's an excuse to flaunt their superiority over everyone else and while I fully support being proud of success, these fuckers think they've done it on their own. Most of them have no idea what happens behind the veiled curtains. They don't realize they're all just puppets, being commanded by those who are smarter than they are. Disgusting, isn't it?**

Peeta made sure to get Katniss a flute of champagne when the waiter walked around, which she slowly sipped on.

**Being married to a Mellark, particularly this Mellark, means having to endure being on-camera and in the public eye on multiple occasions. Katniss knew this before she agreed to marry me but it doesn't mean she has ever truly grown comfortable in the role. She's never enjoyed engaging in small talk. I, on the other hand, excel in situations like this. This is my comfort zone, this is how I got elected and racked up so many favors throughout the year. These morons are lulled under a spell when I speak to them that they often don't realize what they've gotten themselves into until I call on them again.**

"Where is the guest of honor?" Katniss asked, looping her arm through Peeta's as they wound their way through the crowd.

Peeta nodded toward the front of the room where a man with paper-white hair and over-stretched skin stood with a young girl at his side.

**President-elect Coriolanus Snow and his only living relative, his granddaughter. I helped get the old man elected; completely behind the scenes of course. Can't say that I'm much of a fan of him or his platform. He's an intelligent man, his mind is always working, which should be admirable, but his ideas are too short-sighted. He doesn't think about the future, only the now. That knee-jerk reaction worked in his favor during the election when the economy took a slight dip and he was able to create a plan to balance it back out for the moment, but it was up to the rest of us to figure out how to keep it stable.**

**Still, he was the nominee and it was our job to get him elected. And he somehow swung over 55% of the vote, so he deserves my respect. For the time.**

"And you're still sure he was the right choice?"

Peeta shrugged. "Not like Alma Coin was any better. If she had been elected we would end up in the same place in four years except I'd have gotten a demotion instead."

"No one would want that."

"I'll have more influence with Snow at the helm. Maybe make some sort of positive change."

Katniss rested her head against his shoulder. "You'll do great, Peeta. I'm so proud of you already. Look at what you did to even get Snow to the position and all the while kept your hands completely clean."

"You know the rules – current members of government have to remain impartial." Peeta took a long sip of his champagne and smiled at a few passing members of the Exusia Party. "It's a good thing I had enough people to do the dirty work for me so it can never be traced back. Ah look, the Vice President to-be, Seneca Crane."

**Seneca Crane was a joke of a man. He peacocked around after being put on the ticket when, in reality, he was only selected to help pull in the young, female, moderate vote. Something we were all aware of. He never had strong political leanings, but the former Governor of District 2 could easily be molded into a more than adequate Vice President candidate. I was disgusted by the choice. Crane still is a liability more than a benefit, but Snow's been in this game a lot longer than I have. And Crane will never put up a fight which is all Snow is looking for in a right-hand man.**

"Peeta! So good to see you!" A large, balding man bellowed, bounding over toward them.

"Plutarch Heavensbee," Peeta whispered behind his glass, "Snow's Chief of Staff. He may be worse than Snow but he's the gate-keeper of the White House." He smiled brightly as Plutarch gripped him with a hearty handshake. Plutarch was, from an objective point of view, actually quite good at his job, Peeta just didn't trust the man. "Plutarch! How are you?"

"Can't complain at all, my boy. And this is only the tip of the iceberg for us; we're on the road to bigger, better, and brighter." Plutarch turned to Katniss and kissed her hand. "You must be the missus I've heard so much about."

She forced a smile that anyone other than Peeta would have believed as genuine. "Only good things, I hope. How are you, Plutarch?"

Peeta was proud of his wife in moments like this; when she showed she was just as good at playing the game as anyone else, though her rules were often totally different. And Plutarch, dense as he was, ate up every word she fed him about her not-for-profit and how she couldn't wait to see what Snow's future would look like. Peeta's hand wound tighter against her stomach, drumming a beat against the soft fabric of her dress.

**I've paid my dues, backed the right horse, gone above and beyond, but not for entirely selfish reasons. I want to enact change, provide a governmental system people can trust once again, but it's been more about Katniss. I'm ready to reap my reward and give her everything she's ever desired.**

Plutarch obliged them when Peeta requested a dance with his wife. He led her out to the dance floor where they could have a private conversation if they desired. The music slowed down and Katniss pulled her body close to his. "You need a haircut."

"Getting tired of my boyish curls?"

"Just a trim. Have you considered what you may wear? For the announcement? Cinna mentioned that navy blue worked well with your skin tone."

"And I should trust Cinna?"

She pressed her body flush against his and brought her lips to his ear. "You should trust me."

Her breath against his neck sent a shock to his groin. "We're in public, my darling."

"You'd make me wait?"

He leaned down and kissed her passionately on the dance floor just as the song was coming to an end. "Ready to head home, then?"

Their driver was not immune to the noises Katniss made when Peeta pulled her onto his lap and pulled the straps of her dress down to expose her breasts. In fact, Thresh's discretion was well reimbursed, so the pair never had qualms about fucking as loudly as they pleased in the backseat. He loved the feeling of being inside her, of making her fall apart as he thrust his hips up faster and harder, of making her pant his name over and over until they were both satiated and spent. He had never wanted anyone as strongly or as often as he wanted Katniss Everdeen-Mellark. "Happy New Year, Congressman," she purred into his ear, giving his lobe a light nip of her teeth.

* * *

"Mr. Mellark?" The young aide behind the desk smiled brightly at him. "Mr. Heavensbee will see you now."

Peeta winked at the young aide as she escorted him to Heavensbee's door.

**These assistants are power hungry. They get hungrier every year. It wouldn't take much to convince this young one to spy on her employer for me – a wink, a smile, a fleeting touch on her arm. But I've got bigger problems at the moment than what Plutarch is up to. I'm already in with him, no reason to include more people than I need to. It's too big of a risk.**

He strode confidently into Plutarch's office, surprised to see the Chief of Staff alone in the office. "Plutarch, how are you today? Will Coriolanus be joining us today?"

Plutarch pointed to a chair and shook his head. "Afraid it's just me today, Peeta, though the President-elect sends his apologies for not being able to attend."

Peeta's forehead furrowed but he opened his briefcase and handed Plutarch a file from it. "That is a shame. Um, this is a draft of a memo for our European allies. I've been giving it some thought and if we are able to integrate some of their-"

Plutarch put his hand up. "Peeta, I'm…I'm going to stop you there. We…uh, we made a decision. And we're not going to nominate you for Secretary of State as originally planned."

All the air was sucked from the room with a single breath. Peeta heard his blood pounding in his ears and could swear his heart dropped into his stomach. "What?"

"Peeta, I know a promise was made to you but circumstances have changed. We need to think strategically in this case and at the moment, you are stronger if you remain at your current position as Majority Whip."

Peeta gripped the armrest of his chair, his fingers digging into the hard wood of the chair with such force he thought it would splinter. "Heavensbee. Without me, you wouldn't be in this position. None of you would be. I raised over six million dollars for this campaign. I convinced how many Insurgi members to switch sides just to get Snow elected. All because I was promised the position."

"I know, Peeta," Plutarch sighed. "But we have to start making choices, one of which is that you are stronger in the House. We have to do a complete overhaul of the education system, revamp taxes, get immigration laws under control. We can't do any of that without you there to take the reins."

Peeta pushed his chair back and stood, leaning over Plutarch's desk, eyes boring into the other man's. "I want to talk to Snow about this."

"The decision has been made," Plutarch answered calmly. "We need you but not here. Not yet. I do need to know that you've got our backs in this. Are you going to play your part?"

**I felt the change at that moment. I snapped. Anger, yes, but something more. Something deeper and darker and far more dangerous. Revenge.**

**I will play my part but I will no longer playing their game.**

"Of course, Heavensbee. Whatever President Snow feels is best."

* * *

It was almost 11 when Peeta arrived at his darkened home. Katniss was already there – her heels were neatly by the front door and her messenger bag was set on her desk in the side room. He sighed, she was going to be in one of her moods by this point and it was entirely his fault.

"You didn't call."

Katniss' voice cut through the dark house as Peeta neared their living room. He flipped the large floor lamp on, illuminating the room. She was sitting on the couch with her back to him, staring at a painting on the wall.

Disappointed flooded through his weary body. He sat in a chair adjacent to her and ran his hand through his hair, unable to look his wife in the eye. "I know. I-"

"No excuses. You don't not call me. We have a system, Peeta Mellark. We have that system for one fucking reason. I…I'm…" her voiced dropped, "I was worried, Peeta. I had no idea what was happening and I'm the one you tell everything to."

"You're right," he conceded, reaching for her hand.

"You should have called me first thing," her voice was stern. She may have been worried about him but she was still angry, and he knew that wouldn't disappear anytime soon and wouldn't be surprised if he slept on the couch tonight. "Why didn't you?"

The afternoon flashed through Peeta's mind. His meeting with Plutarch. The rage that coursed through his body when he found out he had been fooled. Still, he kept his voice calm. "I wanted to figure out what to do first. I've worked so hard for those assholes for years behind the scenes. I kept my mouth shut, I played their fucking game and where did it get me?"

She frowned and stood, pacing around the living room to help her think. "And you didn't see any sign of this? You never get fooled."

"I'm aware," he snapped. "Haymitch always warned me; 'three moves ahead,' always have to think of every possibility. I was blinded by my ambition."

Katniss stopped and faced him. "You're angry." It wasn't a question because it didn't have to be.

"Of course. But what do you expect? You think I'm going to lash out at Snow? At Heavensbee? Want me to go into work and make a bigger mess of things? Expose to everyone what they've done? All that will do is expose us. I can't do anything about this right now other than accepting that I got fucked over." She didn't deserve his rage but she was going to get the full extent of it if she continued down this line. He already felt like a complete failure and he didn't really need to hear more about it from his only support system.

"If you're expecting sympathy from me you won't get it."

"I never do," he shot back.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "You're better than this, Peeta. My husband did not work this hard for this long to lie down like a coward." She turned on her heel and started up the stairs to their bedroom, pausing only when she heard a loud crashing sound from the living room. With a smirk, she continued to bed.

Peeta picked up the larger shards of porcelain from the sculpture he threw against the wall.

**Katniss is the only other person who truly understands the extent of my anger, what I am still physically capable of when pushed. I'm not proud of it – it's a trait I inherited from my mother – so I do my best to keep it hidden. Even from my wife. I'll leave a note for the housekeeper in the morning to remove all evidence of the night.**

His head was still reeling as he walked across the room to a small, side window. On the sill sat a pack of unused cigarettes and a glass tumbler with the perfect amount of whiskey he would need for this event.

**This isn't the first time Katniss has walked away from me after a disagreement. I'd call it a fight but our fights are rarely so civil. I got my mother's mean streak; Katniss got her father's temper. When our backs are against the wall, blows are low and swift. No, that wasn't a fight. It wasn't even so much a disagreement because she's not angry at me, but at the situation. She's frustrated that I haven't come up with a solution yet to fulfill our needs.**

**But she knows me well enough to know that reminding me of that won't get us anywhere. Instead, she walks away. I'll admit, the first few times she did it, I was angry, annoyed, even a little frightened that maybe she wouldn't come back. But after almost fifteen years of marriage and more…disagreements…than I'd care to remember, I know her better. She's not punishing me. She's pushing me. She's forcing me to calm down and be objective about everything. We both know there is a solution to this problem I just need to be able to see it.**

He lit a cigarette and took a long drag, leaning his body against the wall. As the nicotine surged through his veins, he grabbed a notepad off the counter and began creating a list – those he could trust, those he needed to take down. Cigarette after cigarette, his lists grew and shifted until he found his truth. At the bottom of his tenth page, underlined three times and circled was the phrase, "a piece in their game."

He started the coffee pot when he heard Katniss come down the stairs, dressed for work. "Did you sleep?" she asked, kissing his cheek, as if nothing had happened the night before.

"No. But I figured it out."

"I knew you would." She poured the first cup from the pot, not bothering to wait for it to finishing brewing completely. She slid the strong, black, liquid toward him and nodded for him to drink up. "And?"

He tossed the notepad down in front of her. "I'm not going down without a fight. I have to find a way to show those bastards they don't actually own us, own me. I'm not a pawn in their game, Katniss. It's about damn time I think we start playing our own game." His eyes lit up and the crooked smile that won him so many votes had taken a dark turn. "I'm going to take what's mine."

She studied the notepad, mumbling to herself and adding a few suggestions of her own. She poured her coffee, mixed with milk and sugar, into her travel thermos. She leaned over the counter and pressed her lips against his. "I laid out a suit for you upstairs. A grey one. You know I love you in grey."

He watched her slip into her heels, pick up her bag, and saunter outside to catch her car.

**I love that woman more than life itself. She's my strength, my heart, my soul. Everything I do is really about her, for her. I'd do anything she wanted without her having to say a word.**

Looking over his list of allies and enemies, he realized that without her asking, he was about to set one of the greatest acts of treason in history in motion. He noticed that she added something below his final comment and grinned. Three simple words held more power than anything he had ever muttered in his political career. _Take out Snow._


End file.
